Political Incident
It was the end of the day,the lift doors were closing,the office commute began here. I pulled my Portobello furscruff tight over my mini skirtand
November 26, 2014
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It was the end of the day,the lift doors were closing,the office commute began here. I pulled my Portobello furscruff tight over my mini skirtand
You’ve always had it so good,that’s what the kids said the other morningas they languished at the kitchen tablehungover from vodka at the London clubstill
The air was dampwith silk-spun mistdraping itself over the still water. The moorhen’s solitary saluteechoed across the shore,as the dinghy rockedour unsteady feet. I felt
The air is sticky with popcorn as the door swirls me in.The vast atrium, arrayed of garish colours, plastic, multiple screens,buzzes with a confusion of
The child climbed the gangplank,my small fingers clutched the mahogany rail.I waved ribbons of disquiet from the deck,fear stabbing my uncharted ribs,while white-gloved sailors saluted
I was number 36 of the Beatles Fan Club, in around 1963. I was 13 years old and crazy about John Lennon. I still have